Frozen Fires
by Flawed Heroine
Summary: During Jack's disappearance, the Torchwood team are forced to travel to the Himalayas to investigate an alien threat. Little do they know it is all part of a trap set for them by the Master before The Year That Never Was, and they will have to work together to survive the consequences. Gwen & Ianto friendship; Tosh & Owen romantic angst.


The old man was thin, pale, with a pinched face, like someone caught in a wind that was permanently icy. His eyes were icy, too, grey and translucent like ice, barely blinking as he surveyed the poor shaking girl.

"Don't come any closer," she trembled, her eyes as round as saucers. Her hair was matted and hanging over her face; obviously, she had been in a struggle. Blood soaked her t-shirt and the knees of her jeans but she didn't seem to notice. The room was completely darkened aside from the two figures.

"I am only trying to help you," he responded in a high-pitched, eerie tone. "My dear, I was the one who found you like this. I was the one who called for help."

He took a couple of steps closer, extending his branch-like arms toward her.

"I said, get back!" cried Gwen, the fear ringing out in her voice. "Do not touch me, Bilis. I don't want to see the future. I certainly don't want to see your twisted version of it, even if there is some truth there."

Bilis tugged at his cravat. "But don't you want to know what happens? To your beloved Rhys? What if he was in danger? What if there was something you could do to help him?"

"I don't care," said Gwen hesitantly. "Some things you're just not supposed to know."

Bilis chuckled ruefully. "Well, alright then. But I did try to warn you. The blood is on your hands now…" He leaned in. "But you might want to take care of that. The police will be here soon."

The lights flickered on. Bilis took his hand off Gwen's shoulder… The hallucination evaporated. She was back in reality.

"Out damned spot," whispered Bilis, before disappearing completely.

Gwen looked down at her hands. They were dripping in blood. Dreading the consequences, but possessed by greater curiosity, she followed the trail of scarlet staining her apartment.

The poor bloke was crumpled like an old rag behind the sofa, his desperate form telling the story of his final moments. He curled into his wound, ankles tucked behind him, his hands slimy with blood that was still flowing, though his heart had stopped beating twenty minutes ago. Gwen glimpsed her reflection in the murder weapon - the custom blade that Suzie had used in the last stages of Torchwood-driven insanity - and in that moment she realised that she had killed Rhys Williams.

* * *

Gwen Cooper lurched forward, her lungs taking in screams of air, before being flung back down to her bed like a spring. The sheets were stretched tightly over her squirming, breathless body, pinning her arms, legs and neck to the mattress. _Damnit, Rhys_! Gwen screamed internally. Why couldn't the stupid lump just leave her alone? For God's sake, why, _why_ did he always tuck her in at night?

Panic was building in her chest and head as she struggled to get free of this… this Egyptian cotton torture device. Finally she kicked one of the corners loose and ripped the entire bedspread off, exhaling loudly. Taking a couple a minutes to let her anger at Rhys dissipate.

_Of course_, she understood where he was coming from, even in his madness. She always understood, that was the curse of being a cop, of having the "gift" of empathy. She always saw things from Rhys' point of view in equal parts to her own, which was what made her head so damn conflicted and it so hard to know what she really wanted.

_Of course_, Gwen understood why Rhys was worried. It had been weeks since Jack had disappeared, weeks since Gwen had come home in blood-stained clothes, offering no good explanation of her absence. It had only been a fortnight since Gwen became the official leader of Torchwood, the underground alien-fighting troop she had known for just a year. She didn't particularly want to be leader, but it was a collective decision after they had exhausted all other options.

How did Ianto put it? "We need someone tough enough to tell us what to do, but nice enough not to be a jerk about it."

Suddenly, Gwen was responsible for paperwork she didn't know how to process, liaising between the police, the government and UNIT (which ones were they again?), tracking down aliens and artifacts that had come through the rift, and of course, making sure that Owen, Tosh and Ianto didn't die or try to kill each other. No wonder she was stressed.

That wasn't to mention coping with Rhys' death/not-death, and the screaming, kicking nightmares she'd been having ever since, so bad that Rhys had resorted to tucking her in like a child at night to stop her from thrashing about. She didn't want to think about it.

Gwen felt the panic rising again and she clambered out of bed to check on Rhys. _Please be alright, please be alright_.

"You alright, love?" Rhys' adoring tones filled the kitchen. "You look upset."

Gwen tiptoed forwards and kissed him. "Just confused. What are you doing?" She pointed to the bouquet of daffodils on the table, and the fancy dining set. "That's my gran's nice china."

"I wanted to make you breakfast in bed." Rhys wrapped his arm around her waist. "But this will do, won't it?"

"Well, considering I had expectations of nothing, I guess it will." Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I love you!" Rhy exclaimed heartily, kissing her on the cheek. "And look, real bacon!" He pointed to a sizzling pan where half a block of butter was being melted with bacon, eggs and sausages.

"Oh, thank God! So I guess the diet is off then?"

Rhys gave her a look of mock hurt. "_Diet, schmiet_. Can't a man have a salad every once in a while without being accused of something horrible?" He turned his attention back to the stove, pointedly turning his back on her. "Anyway, you're the one who never eats anything, always running here and there with nothing but coffee in your stomach."

"I do too eat," huffed Gwen. "Sometimes you forget when you're busy. Rhys, you drive trucks for a living."

"Oh, right, thanks. You know, I may not have a job as_ important_ as yours but it doesn't mean I sit on my arse all day. Haulage is hard work." He threw the spatula in the sink and hurriedly began to serve breakfast.

Rhys slid her plate towards her and they both began to eat in silence.

"You've been talking in your sleep again," said Rhys, after some time. "Some guy called Bilis."

Gwen had nearly choked on her breakfast the first time Rhys revealed her sleep talking.

What if she had blabbed about her real job in Torchwood, or worse, her affair with Owen? To her luck, she hadn't yet mentioned those incriminating details in her life, however, Rhys often asked why her subconscious was so obsessed with a man called Jack.

"Bilis, eh? Must have been the dream talking," mumbled Gwen between mouthfuls of eggs. "I've never heard that name before."

"I've heard you say it before," Rhys snapped. "Gwen, you've been having bad dreams for weeks. Don't you think it's time you saw someone about it?"

"I'm _fine_," said Gwen through gritted teeth.

"People who are fine don't wake up gasping for breath and in tears every other night," said Rhys, almost flinching in fear of her reaction.

"I don't need a bloody psych assessment from you!" She bellowed, shooting out of her seat. "Why do you always have to find something wrong with me? If it's not my domestic capabilities, it's my job. If it's not that, my mental health is sliding! You always find something to criticise and I'm bloody sick of it!"

Rhys rose up from his seat, his jaw hanging open, showing a mouthful of chewed bacon. "Hey, I..."

"I am doing my best, alright? Why can't that be enough for you?"

"Gwen, I'm just trying to help you," came Rhys' feeble response.

"No, you're just bringing me down," she said coldly. "You want me to fail so you can say 'I told you so' and make me hate myself a little bit more."

"WHAT?" Rhys' eyes were shining. "Gwen, I don't-"

"I'm sick of it, Rhys. I'm going to work." She left the room, adding: "I know how much you hate it when I'm happy."

* * *

Gwen showered, got dressed and drove to the Hub. Anger clouded her mind and when she reached Ianto's office, she stopped for a minute and tried to breathe normally before going in. She didn't want her colleagues to think she was losing it… however, she suspected they thought she had lost it long since.

"Good morning," sang Ianto with obnoxious sincerity. He was handsome and fresh in a dark blue suit, his pale skin gleaming like polished china. Gwen suddenly felt sheepish with her barely brushed hair and yesterday's torn jeans.

"Morning, Ianto," she hummed.

Ianto reached under his desk and gave her a steaming mug of black coffee. It was in his favourite mug, the one with the secret compartment for biscuits underneath. Gwen found two Fig Rolls hidden inside.

"Lovely," she sighed, dunking one in her coffee and nibbling the edge. "You are, you know that."

"I do," nodded Ianto. "Anyway, Happy Anniversary."

"_What_?"

Ianto chuckled. "I'm sorry, I was looking at the calendar on your desk and I saw it was you and Rhys' anniversary. I won't tell the others if it's a secret. How many years have you been together now? … Are you alright?" He leaned forward, placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've gone pale. Gwen?"

"Shit, Ianto." She whispered. "What have I done?"

* * *

**Note: While this chapter is mostly about Gwen, I promise the other characters will get an equal turn! I want to make sure all the characters are represented accurately and sensitively. They're so complex and imperfect, that's why I love Torchwood!**

**If you liked (or disliked) this chapter, please review! Writing is my life and I'd love to know what you think.**


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